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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142693">Broken Coffee Cups</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofneverland/pseuds/aceofneverland'>aceofneverland</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>rift &amp; vortex one shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Depression, Depressive Thoughts, M/M, Minor Character Death, Self Loathing, Slave Trade, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, and only because it was in broken, broken coda, mentioned - Freeform, mentioned only - Freeform, vaguely referenced</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofneverland/pseuds/aceofneverland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in honor of Liz Sladen's birthday, I wanted to post the moment Ianto and Sarah Jane's friendship started in my headcanons.  This takes place, specifically, after the Torchwood audio Broken and will reference it heavily.  Episode wise, it takes place after Greeks Bearing Gifts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(referenced), Ianto Jones &amp; Sarah Jane Smith, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>rift &amp; vortex one shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Broken Coffee Cups</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincallsx/gifts">raincallsx</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>please please please read my tags.  there is a lot of possibly triggering content due to Ianto not being in a great headspace.   be mindful of yourself and take care of yourself.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jack didn’t stick around.  Not that Ianto expected him to.  ‘Just this once.  Tomorrow we go back to whatever passes for normal in our lives.’   That’s what they had said.   Once.   One truly incredible,  truly eye awakening time.   And it was.  It was incredible,  mind blowing,  bordering on avante garde. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t expect Jack to lay with him,  to act like anything had changed at all.    But Jack left,  and Ianto stared at his ceiling,  and the weight came back.   The darkness that weighed on him like a lion pressing down,  down,  down.    When he closed his eyes he could still hear the screams.    The screams of Torchwood One,  of Lisa,  now mingled with the screams he’d heard from Jack that night.    Screams.  Blood.  Bright, shocking white light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto barely made it to the toilet before he was upending what was in his stomach.   It wasn’t much.   Mainly the beer that he’d been drinking and the pretzels that Mandy had forced upon him.   God,  Mandy.   Mandy who had been kind,  who had listened and comforted.   Who saved his life.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she was running now.  Because it was running or death.   She’d been transporting people to their doom.   She thought that she and Ianto were the same.   Maybe they were.   Maybe he was the monster in all of this.   He’d almost killed the people who’d taken him in.  He’d almost sent Jack, who’d given him endless chances, to his doom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt like crying,  but he couldn’t.   He just felt numb.   He didn’t deserve to shed tears,  not when he’d been the one to cause so much pain.  The pain he felt was too much,  but perhaps it was what he deserved.   To carry all that pain.   After all the pain he had caused.   ‘You haven't been thinking about... doing anything, you know--? Like after Lisa…’    He’d lied to his mam tonight when she called.   But what was new?   He’d been lying to her since he’d hit secondary.   And it was better to not let her worry.   He wasn’t going to do anything drastic.   Even if all he wanted was for the pain to stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt like he couldn’t think.   The pain,  the guilt,  it’d gone away for a bit.  When he was under Jack,  just letting his mind turn off for a little bit.   But it was back now and he couldn’t feel anything but he felt everything at once.   Pain,  aching bruises that should’ve been healed by now.  Guilt.   Sorrow.   Loss,  so much loss.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost killed Jack today.   Worse,  he almost condemned him to a life of torture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what it was that made him snap,  that made him get in the car and head off despite it inching towards midnight.   Maybe it was because she’d always seemed to know that there was something going on.   Maybe it was because she’d told him that if he ever needed her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course,  she probably meant a phone call,  not showing up on her doorstep in the ass crack hours of night.   But he couldn’t be alone.   He didn’t trust himself to be alone.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And driving let him shut off his mind.   He plugged 13 Bannerman Road into the GPS and he set off.   He let his mind blur,  let himself focus on the road.   The feeling of the steering wheel.  The headlights.    He finished the nearly three-hour-long drive in two hours.   Because pushing the speed limit on the open stretches of road felt like SOMETHING.    They felt like he could breathe,  could laugh like a psychopath for just a little bit.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when he stopped in the drive,  the weight came back.   It never truly left,  he was just able to ignore it for some time.   It was so heavy he barely could lift himself from his car,  could barely move.  He just wanted to curl up and never get up again.   A light in the house flicked on.   Someone had seen his headlights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had a son now.  God,  he didn’t even think about that.   Why had he come here?   He had no right.   No right to demand comfort or human company.   No right to leech off of her kindness,  especially at nearly three am.   Hadn’t he leeched off of Jack enough?  Had too many chances,  too many forgivenesses?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto?  Is that you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t turn back now.  He’d already woken her up,  had already chosen to ask for this.   By the time he reached the front door,  he could feel the tears starting to streak down his cheeks.  “I didn’t know where else I could go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah Jane held out her hand.   He just stared at it for a moment before letting himself take it.   More tears fell down.   Damn it,  it was just a hand!   Why was letting someone hold his hand making him want to sob?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because when was the last time he’d been touched with such unwanting kindness?   With Lisa?  Perhaps.   But that was going on nine months ago now.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ushered him into the living room and gently eased him onto the couch.  “I’m going to make us some coffee.”   She paused for a moment,  looking over his face,  his sweat pants and t-shirt that he’d thrown on.   “Maybe something stronger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how long she was away.   What even was time?   Maybe it was only a second, maybe it was an hour before a warm mug was being pressed into his hands.  He hissed,  but he clung to the mug,  harboring it close to his chest as though the warmth could feel in the gaps in his heart.    The tears had slowed again.   Back to feeling nothing and everything and the weight on his shoulders.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No.  That was a hand on his shoulder.  Sarah Jane’s hand,  squeezing his shoulder.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I - I don’t know where to start.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about the beginning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course,  it would be easy.  But where even was the beginning?  Conning his way into Torchwood Three?   The Fall of Torchwood One?  Yvonne Hartman recruiting him?  Running away from home?   Everything was so intertwined,  and there was no way he was going to sit on her couch and tell her his whole life story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t a therapist,  and he had no right to ask her of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I worked at Torchwood One before Three.   It’s why Jack was so hesitant in employing me.”  His voice was barely coming out.   His hands shook and he clung the cup to his chest even tighter.   “Yvonne had hired me.  I thought it meant I was something,  the fact that the boss wanted me as an assistant.  I - I think now that she just saw how desperate I was for any kind of recognition.   That I would do anything for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a sip of his drink,  barely even tasting it but the warmth felt good going down his throat and into his chest.   Sarah Jane didn’t say anything,  and while part of him wanted to rely on other people talking,  wanted to hide behind someone else being the focus,  he couldn’t remember the last time someone had just listened to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had my first proper girlfriend there.   There’d been things in secondary,  but it was mainly just messing around.   Lisa.   She was beautiful.  Confident.  She knew what she wanted and how to get it,  and it was breathtaking.   Yvonne set us up a bit.   Figured we were taking it ‘too slow.’   I pretended I didn’t know what Yvonne was doing,  because hey,  I was getting the girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took another sip,  trying to put himself together.  He’d never said it allowed,  not like this.   Maybe that night in the hub,  but he was running on adrenaline that night and most of it was a blur now.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spending hours cleaning up the blood stains wasn’t a blur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fall.  We were there,  Lisa and I.    When things started going wrong,  I -  I said we needed to leave.  To hide.   The Cybermen,  they were taking people.  Changing people.   And the Doctor was there.  Everything was going to blow up.   I don’t know when we got separated,  but we did.  And I got knocked out.   I don’t know how I didn’t get picked up and converted right then.   Maybe they thought I was dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands were shaking bad now and he was trying to stop them.  He thought Sarah Jane might be squeezing his wrist or his shoulder,  but he could barely feel it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I searched for her.   And I found her.   She was on one of their conversion machines.  But they hadn’t finished converting her.   And all I could think of was how it was so unfair.  It should’ve been me.   Because she had a family,  she had true goals in what she wanted out of Torchwood.  She,  she deserved to live.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah Jane shifted closer to him,  and he embraced the warmth that came with it.  The comfort that came with it.   She still didn’t interrupt him,  didn’t talk.  And now he was talking and talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He told her how he had snuck Lisa out,  under the noses of Torchwood Three and UNIT that were beginning clean up.  How he’d spent the last of his savings getting her back to Cardiff and setting up in a caravan with a plug in to keep her living.   How he figured the only chance he had to save her was to get her into Torchwood Three.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How he heard about Myfanwy from his local coffee shop,  caught her,  and put her in the warehouse to tempt Jack one final time into hiring him.   How he worked to ensure no one looked twice on him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was easy.  I was the newby doing the tasks no one wants to think about,”  he said.  “Cleaning up,  ordering food,  organizing.  Things that people just want to be done without doing themselves.  You -  you were the only one who ever tried to see me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah Jane squeezed his shoulder and he leaned into her.   He needed touch,  didn’t even realize how much he’d needed it until Sarah Jane was giving it freely.  No other motives,  no goal.  Just - touch.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I could fix her.  Brought in a specialist.   But.   It wasn’t Lisa,  it hadn’t been since the Fall.  It’d been a shell,  an echo of her.  And she.   She-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mug fell to the ground, shattering.   Tears were falling again,  and he couldn’t stop saying sorry.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,”  Sarah Jane said.  She picked up both is hands,  squeezing them tightly in hers.  “Let me go clean it up and you can continue, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare apologize again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He curled up,  picking his legs up and pressing his knees to his chest.  He wanted to help clean,  wanted to fix the mess he’d made.  But he couldn’t bear to stand up.  To move from the position he was in.  Everything was too heavy, too unresponsive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even after she sat down again,  Ianto had to take a few minutes before he continued.   Sarah Jane didn’t push him,  didn’t rush him.  She just sat,  and eventually, she reached over and took one of his hands in hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She tried to kill everyone.   Jack was furious,  everyone was.  I don’t blame them.  I’d - I’d let my hope blind me to the truth.   She nearly killed me,  I only survived because of Jack.  And.  He should’ve retconned me.  He should’ve retconned me and sent me packing.   Back to mam’s or Rhiannon’s or anywhere else.   But he didn’t.  I don’t - I don’t understand why he didn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because Ianto,” she paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully, “because I think he knows how you feel. I think he knows as well as I do that it isn’t what you need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto dropped his head forward into his knees,  squeezing Sarah Jane’s hand.  “I started going to my local.  A lot.  The barmaid,  Mandy,  she was always nice.  Didn’t press too much but she let me talk.   She.   She saved my life even.  After -  well it doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked up again,  but not at Sarah Jane.  Just out,  at her living room.  At the furniture.  At the light that was just barely beginning to awaken in the sky.  “She was working with an alien.  A slave trader.  She was taking people,  sending them over.  Jack came to stop her.  And I - I nearly let them take Jack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I almost did.  I had so much rage,  so much anger.  All I could think about was how he killed Lisa.   But he didn’t.   God,  he didn’t.   She’d died nine months ago,  in the Fall.  The Cybermen killed her.  I was just keeping alive a shell that should’ve been left to rot.   Because I wanted her to have a second chance at life.   Because SHE deserved to survive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let out a sob.   He felt Sarah Jane move closer,  wrap her arm around his shoulder.  He just cried into his knees.   He cried and cried until he was certain he didn’t have any water left in him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He still didn’t fire me,”  Ianto said.  Whispered.  “I tried to hand him over to slave traders,  tried to sell him off to a life of torture.  And he still didn’t fire me tonight.  He - he.   Even after it all,  he let me kiss him.  Let me hold him.  Why would he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always thought that sometimes doing something can prove to be much more useful than trying to find the words you really want to say.  And sometimes there’s no better comfort than the touch of another. I think that was his way of telling you he cares just as deeply as you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she spoke,  he tried to let it sink into him.   But it seemed crazy.  Jack had called him his friend,  the night before.   ‘You’re my friend, Ianto Jones.’   But that was it.  They were friends,  who needed touch that wasn’t painful for one night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned into her touch,  her warmth,  like it was something he’d been starved of for months.   But the way Jack had touched him,  had let him touch back.   It was something he’d been running from for months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,”  he whispered.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He banged his head against his knees. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like him.  Fuck.  No.  After everything, no.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack,  tonight.  I’ve been - I’ve wanted that for months I think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really can’t say I’m surprised.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I tried to have him killed.  I called him an emotionless monster.  I blamed him for a death that I’d simply been prolonging.   I can’t - that’s not fair.    Not to him.   Why HIM?  Why the person who shouldn’t even look in my direction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto Jones you listen to me.   You have been through more pain than most humans go through in a lifetime.   Jack knows that,  and he sees the same strength that I see in you.  He believes in you,  and I can guarantee that he is certainly looking in your direction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard the words,  but it was like they were floating around in his mind not truly sticking.   Because that couldn’t be true.   He’d fucked up so many times.   So often.  Before Torchwood Three,  before anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never had a home,”  he whispered.  “Not truly.  It was always just places.  Nan’s place,  maybe but it’s been a long time since she passed.  Torchwood Three.  I - they feel like a family.  A fucked up family,  but a family.  And I fucked it up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you had,  you would be retconned and wouldn’t even be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to fix things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like this.  Talk with them.  Let them in.  Let yourself have them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto nodded into his knees,  trying to believe the words that Sarah Jane was speaking.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for this.  You didn’t have to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I want to.  I am more than happy to help, Ianto.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He called off work, eventually.   The sun was starting to come up already,  and really he shouldn’t be overstaying his already overpressed welcome.   Jack told him to take the weekend off.  Maybe it was for the best,  for the both of them.   There were boxes of Lisa’s stuff in his flat that he could finally afford, and maybe it was time to finally clear those.  And the alcohol in his flat.  All of that needed to go.  And Jack,  well he had every right to not want to look at Ianto. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t intrude on Sarah Jane even more,  even as she asked if he was sure he wanted to go.  As he stood at the door way, preparing for the three-hour drive back,  he looked back at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,  I wasn’t the most welcoming when you were at Torchwood.  And I know I just unloaded a lot onto you.  But it goes both ways.  If you need someone,  anyone,  you just need to call.   This world doesn’t deserve you, Sarah Jane Smith.   But I want to try to make it a little more deserving.”</span>
</p>
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